#i know this just feels like all i want is money and nothing else.

[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG lll

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 2.8k

contains: violence, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: many wished for a part 3, so here you go!

prev. | masterlist.

Money, money, money - must be funny, in the rich man's world? And you know what, it probably was. Though, it wasn't as if a single fucking person in this room would know that. Otherwise, you all wouldn't be here in the first place, would you now?

There were a few among you who couldn't shake off the desire to understand those lyrics, even if it meant risking your lives for it. Well, and by a few you meant more than half of the people around here. You would bet that they would put even more on the line if they had anything else, but no - your own life was all you had and maybe well, the life of the others around you.

All it took was stuffing a few banknotes into a golden piggy to make all the other pigs hope that it could be them up there - that they could be the lucky person that got the money. It seemed to be true, you could take people's lives but not their stupid hope. The one thing that would still be the demise of many, it had to. The prize money wouldn't increase without their sacrifice, after all.

Everyone knows how stories like that ended. You know, the ones where desperate people fight against each other for a chance? Watching all the glowing faces when the prize money was announced after the first game ended, was like watching a beaten-up dog that someone put outside - only to lure it back into the house with a bowl of food. It was just sick. Well, at least it made you sick.

Your lower lip wouldn't stop quivering and you tried to stop it by biting it, but to no avail. You were sweating while still freezing simultaneously and you were very much familiar with the signals your body was trying to send you. However, you tried to ignore them as best as you could, just like you did with everything else right now.

“Hey, you're really not going to talk to me? What if I die in the next game and the last thing you did was ignoring me?” Thanos' incredibly annoying voice spouted some bullshit again as he leaned against your bed while standing up. He had been trying to get your attention for a while now but you were stubborn and continued to show him your back. He raised an eyebrow questioningly as he nudged you with his hand. “Do you really want this on your conscience? Hey, are you serious? I thought that -”

Thanos stopped what he was saying when you turned aggressively to face him with a rather angry look on your face. He slowly brought his hand back to him as your eyes continued to glance at him with that look. “No, you don't think and that's the problem.” you spat out the words full of venom and tried to control yourself when your eyes shifted to the blue label with the circle on his chest. “Why should I care if you die in the next game, huh? You obviously want to keep playing, you -” and you searched for a word to curse him out, but there just wasn't one that could wrap up your feelings at this moment.

It happened again - he took another chance away from you to just live your life. Maybe it wasn't entirely fair of you to blame him when it was a whole group of people who had voted to stay here, but you stopped caring about what was fair a long time ago. “Whatever, nothing matters anymore anyway.” you laughed out in exasperation as you ran your shaky hand over your face. “I'm going to die next round anyway, but I guess that suits you pretty well, huh? You know, since that means that another 100 million won goes into your pretty piggy bank?”

It was a large sum of money, no question, but - was your life really only worth that much?

Thanos grabbed your arm in annoyance as he shook his head in disbelief at what you were saying. You weren't just a sum of money to him and he didn't understand why you would think that. Yes, he admitted that he fucked up all the time and he had never been the best friend to you, but - if there was one thing, one person that he could care about - that would be you, no questions asked. He still did after all these years, even if he didn't say it, even if he did it in his own twisted way. “Are you crazy? Stop talking stupid shit, you're not going to die!” He exclaimed angrily, not even considering that as an option. “If you'd just stop being so fucking stubborn and join my team, you'd know that too.”

You laughed. “What team? You and your little boyfriend back there?” you asked him as you looked at the guy a little further behind you. He seemed like a good tag-along waiting for his boss. How cute, you were about to throw up. “I doubt you two idiots are going to increase my chances of staying alive.”

Thanos looked at you offensively. “Nam-su is not my boyfriend, okay? And we may still be few, but that will change soon. Can't you just - please trust me? Please?” he just straight up started begging and to be honest, you didn't have much energy left for any arguing at this point.

You wish you had the privilege of being able to say that everything was easier back when you two were kids, but your life was exhausting even then. Your mother had too many children with a deadbeat man like your father and after you were born, they put all their hope in you for some reason - to get them out of their miserable poor lives. You weren't some hero, not then and not now. “Do you know why I have so much debt?” you finally asked Thanos tiredly and he just looked at you silently before shaking his head.

You nodded. Of course, he didn't know, you had never told him since you preferred to cut him off. “Because I lost my scholarship at university after they found out I was a fucking crackhead,” you answered him with a depressed smile. “And it doesn't really help much to be smart or anything if you don't have any money. That was my only chance to pay my way through to not end up like this but now I have to figure out how to pay for all that without working myself to death at a fucking minimum wage job,” you told him.

You thought you could finally get rid of some of the stress - try again with the money you would earn here. Simply giving up your studies wasn't an option, since that would mean that you had to work shitty jobs which didn't pay much for your entire life and not just while studying. You refused to face the same fate as your mother - dropping out after she found out that she was pregnant with you was the first mistake that led to many more.

But of course, you would never complain ever again - hell, you would much rather prefer working every night shift in the world if that would mean that you could get out of here. “And you know what I've been thinking ever since? That if I had never asked you as a stupid kid if I could play with your Iron Man figure, none of this would have ever happened to me.”

This is just fucking great. Fucking bullshit. Thanos angrily smacked himself on the head, knowing he deserved all of this. Yeah, you probably even made the right decision by cutting him out of your life back then, but he still couldn't help but continue to be selfish and want you. He wanted you in his life even if he was the worst thing that ever happened to you because you know what? It didn't change the fact that you were still the best thing that would ever happen to him.

He had been a selfish asshole his whole life and that wouldn't change now, so he couldn't just let you go. “Look, it's just one more game. The money we would have gotten if we quit wouldn't even be enough to buy a Lamborghini and I have to afford at least…” he had to strain his head a little and count with his fingers. “…four of them to pay off my debts. Hell, maybe enough people will die in the next round and there'll be even some left over. I'll also give you back all the money I owe you, I promise! And I'll give you even more if you need it. I want to help you, I really do,” he tried to explain, knowing that he would have more than enough once he took Myung-gi's share too.

He just doesn't understand. You sighed tiredly. “Whatever, I don't really care anymore,” you said and finally gave in. “Okay, sure, I'll join your stupid loser team. Just stop bugging me.”

Thanos smiled broadly and didn't stop himself from pulling you into a weird hug. “You won't regret this! I'll take care of you, okay?” he clarified, and even though he claimed the opposite, you couldn't help but feel like you'd regret it - you always did. “We're going to get out of here and everything will go back to the way it was before, okay?”

You just looked at him and said nothing more as Thanos continued to hold you, finally noticing your slightly poor physical condition. He knew how to solve the problem as well as you did, but even in his current befuddled state, he wasn't sure if he should offer you a pill. “Oh, um - I know this probably isn't the right time for this, but it still feels like I should ask…” he spoke up, looking down at his cross necklace.

You tried to hold back. At least for now. “Ehm, no, I'm fine -” you declined with a slight shake and nodded. “Yes, I'm fine, I'll just go to sleep - exactly.”

You could already tell that this night wasn't going to be an easy one, but as you watched Thanos and that Nam-su guy shoo a few other people out of their beds around your area, so that they could take their place, you knew for sure. How embarrassing, you thought to yourself as you pulled the blanket over your body and hoped that the lights would go out soon.

“Welcome to your second game. We will begin shortly, and this game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes. Let me repeat -”

I guess we won't be playing Dalgona, after all. You didn't really blame the previous winner of the games, too much. After all, he was in the same shoes as all of you.

“So, we need two more people,” Nam-gyu stated correctly as Thanos confidently slapped him on the back, not doubting picking the best from the pool of players. “Yeah, let's see who we can find. Preferably someone with a lot of muscle and strength,” he said, although you weren't sure what the point of that was since you would be playing children's games. Although, on second thought, the strong kids always managed to win the easiest back then, too…

Thanos looked at you as he pointed his index finger at the ground. “You, wait here. We won't take long,” he commanded you as if you were his pet and you felt your eyebrows twitch slightly at the audacity while you silently watched the two guys go away.

Of course, you didn't listen to what he said and just looked around the crowd yourself when you saw how most of the players had already formed groups. I don't want to be in a team with four idiots, you thought to yourself as you saw two people who seemed to be talking to each other. They seemed to be around your age which made you a bit more comfortable when approaching them. “Excuse me…” you said shyly when you met them because talking to strangers still was something that made you a little nervous. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

The players with the numbers 380 and 125 on their chests looked slightly surprised in your direction. The woman looked at your figure briefly before crossing her arms in front of her. “We are only two, so far.” she clarified before your own number seemed to catch her attention. “Hey, aren't you the one who's always hanging out with that crazy purple-haired guy? I would have expected you to be on a team with him?”

You stroked your hair, slightly uncomfortable. "Did you really notice that? Shit, now everyone probably thinks I'm friends with this guy, how embarrassing,” you mumbled to yourself, and the girl just grinned slightly at your appearance while the shy boy looked at you in confusion. “He's like an annoying tick. He just won't leave me alone. Otherwise, I really wouldn't bother with him! You have to trust me!” you begged her, trying to salvage whatever was left of your image.

And speaking of the devil, it didn't take much longer for Thanos to shout out your name after you said that. “Hey! I told you to stay there, what's so fucking hard to understand?!” he spits out annoyed as he grabs you by the shoulders to shake your body before you can even think of hiding from him. Finally, he noticed the other two next to you. “Who are they?” he asked you as you pushed his hands away.

“I want to be on their team,” you announced.

He looked unbelieving and betrayed. “But you promised me you'd be on Team Thanos!”

“Well, I was clearly lying. So, you'd stop bugging me.”

Thanos looked at you with narrowed eyes before glancing at the two other guys he had recruited along with Nam-guy. “You two - go find another team. Now,” he said simply as he copied your posture and made a counter announcement. “Because we're going to unite our teams. You can't get rid of me so easily, you're staying with me.”

Of course. The player with the number 380 on her chest threw an arm around your shoulder as she looked challengingly at your annoying friend. “And who says that we would want to do that?” she posed the question.

Nam-gyu already knew he didn't like this one. “Hey, who do you think you're talking to -” he started to threaten her, but Thanos put his arm out in front of him before he could go after her.

There was a brief, strange silence as the rapper shifted his gaze between you and the other girl next to you. This girl doesn't look straight, is she interested in…?

Thanos narrowed his eyes as his gaze met yours again and he could feel his muscles tense at the things that were running through his head right now. Number 380 was provoking him with her actions. This shit makes me fucking angry, man. But it only took him maybe a few seconds of imagining the whole thing between you two a bit further to change his mind. Never mind, that's actually pretty hot.

“You're safe as long as the great Thanos protects you, eh? Besides, I doubt you'll find anyone better, there are only two minutes left.” he suddenly spoke out and none of you wanted to know what went on in his head in the short time that he was silent. “Come on, this is going to be fun! Who's the little guy behind you?” he asked and you and number 380 looked at each other reluctantly for a moment before revealing your hidden member.

Nam-guy let out a heavy sigh as his eyes met the loser in front of him but Thanos didn't seem to care much about that. “What's your name?” he asked, watching as the guy looked up at him a little anxiously. “Oh, my name is Min-su…”

Even his name sounds pathetic, Nam-gyu thought to himself and couldn't stop himself from voicing his dissatisfaction. “This guy honestly gives me mad loser vibes, dude…” he complained, but Thanos paid him no mind as he walked towards the member. “Nah, this is perfect - we're the perfect team! Right Nim-su?” he asked the little guy while hugging him more tightly from the side and laughing when he saw his shy reaction. “I like you, you're cute.”

Seeing the two of them together was a really weird view, you honestly felt sorry for Min-su. “I'm sorry about that…” you whispered a little awkwardly to player 380 but she just patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “Don't worry, how those two behave is not your responsibility. I suppose we're in this thing together now.” she laughed, not sure exactly what to make of this all herself.

You smiled at her before your eyes went to the watch on the wall which showed that you all only had half a minute left before the next game would start. “I mean, I guess so…”

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[kkentobox]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his tender loving! w/ jschlatt.

description: having a loud online persona, most assume your new york man is a hassle to keep around. there was no need to prove them otherwise, his gentle love was all yours.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀tags: fluff! sappy & soft schlatt, female reader!

authors note: i fell back in love with him after not watching his content for a good year, so i couldn’t help myself ^_^ reblogs & likes are always appreciated <3

⠀⠀recording days always amused you. you had very little information of who jay was before you had begun dating, so anytime you were in his home while he was recording; it surprised you. he was known to be very loud, cocky of who he was and how much he made. his charming humor would remain, but everything else always made you want to witness the scene up close.

with his booming laughter echoing the halls, you found comfort in the noise from your place in the living room. mindlessly scrolling through your phone while you patiently waited for his recording to end. quietness began to seep through the house, ultimately letting you know he had finally wrapped everything up. being under the same roof yet being separated for hours, excitement began to bubble in you as you awaited for him to find you.

as you predicted, jay had found you on the couch wearing nothing but shorts that left nothing to the imagination and one of his many sweaters. “you finished early, should i be expecting a good check soon?” you smiled through your teasing question as your arms opened up, needing him to lay on top of you to feel his warmth. “mhm, we’ll be getting you a yacht for the summer in no time, baby.”

having found his way into your arms, jay wasted no time in placing his warm hands underneath the sweater to hold onto your waist. his face snuggling into your neck, soft giggles could be heard from you as his facial hair tickled the sensitive skin causing him to chuckle in return. with your fingers twirling the ends of his hair, “you should keep cutting your hair like this. .” a whisper broke through. humming against your neck, “yeah? why’s that?” his tender voice being reserved just for you, he leaned his head back just enough to look at your face. his eyes gently tracing the features your face holds, features he’s grown to love oh so dearly. from the little crinkles of your eyes when you smile to the way your nose twitches when he can’t resist placing a kiss on it. “you have little curls in the front when you keep it this length, i like em’.”

and with that reasoning alone, he knew he would keep his hair like this forever. “i’ll do it just for you.” planting a kiss to your jaw led to many aggressive kisses being planted everywhere. people called it cuteness aggression, you were a victim of this every day, not that you minded. tugging on his hair just hard enough eventually made him stop, “you have a real problem with that, mister.” though the big dopey smile on your face gave away your true intention, “have no clue what you’re talking bout’.” he would grin right back at you. scratching the facial hair on his cheeks, you looked up at him with the biggest eyes. deciding to place one more tiny kiss on your lips, he leaned down only to linger a few moments more. “you’re going to be the death of me someday, toots.” “hoping it’s soon, your christmas album money is looking real good right now.” giggling together once more, it was always a comfort being yours.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ do not steal or plagiarize any work belonging to kkentobox !

[tsaomengde]

The Interview

Content warning for explicit descriptions and discussions of sexual assault. I am not fucking around. Do not read this if you're not in a place to handle that.

Unsurprisingly, my boss, Harold, does not know who Richard Colby is.  He summarizes the situation in his typical brusque fashion.  “Some genre writer’s getting me-tooed and his PR team wants a puff piece to remind everyone what a funny, awkward, approachable guy he actually is.  Do you want it?”

I shrug, knowing that if I come across as too eager he might give it to someone else.  Harold doesn’t like go-getters.  He likes solid, reliable people who show up on time, write the things they’re told to, and don’t bother him with too many ideas of their own.

“Sure.”

“You’ll take an Uber to his house.  It’s in upstate New York.  He wants to do the interview there.  Says it’ll make him feel more comfortable.”

“Got it.”

The day of, I go full femme mode.  Shave my legs for the first time in years, makeup, product in my hair, a bra instead of a binder, a suit with a pencil skirt, pumps, and stockings.  Looking at myself in the mirror makes me feel dysphoric, but I shove it off.  Bigger fish.

It’s an hour’s ride in the Uber to Colby’s house.  I know the magazine will cover it, so I decide fuck it and take an Uber Black.  Pulling up to a mansion in a luxury car while dressed for the world’s sluttiest business meeting certainly is something else.

There’s no help, no hovering PR people or gofers.  Colby answers the door himself.  He looks rumpled, a small older man wearing an oversized Aran knit sweater and greying curly hair.  “You must be Chris,” he says.  His voice is mellow.

“You must be correct,” I tell him.  “May I come in?”

He ushers me into a positively cavernous room that’s all white carpet, white leather couches, and giant windows looking out onto his landscaped garden.  “Can I get you anything?” he asks.  “Cup of tea?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” I tell him.  I pull out my phone, set it on the table, pull up my voice recording app, and make a show of pressing the red button.  I also pull out my notepad and pen, sitting down on one of the couches and crossing my legs, barely remembering to hook one knee over the other instead of my usual ankle situation.  I don’t wear skirts basically ever.  “Ready to start?”

He hems and haws a little but eventually settles on the couch, a respectful enough distance away.  There is a whole other couch on the other side of a big coffee table, though, so it was definitely a choice to plant himself on the same one as me.  “So,” he says.  “I suppose you’d like to discuss the current palaver in my personal life.”

I frown.  “Palaver?”

He smiles thinly.  “A whole lot of fuss over nothing, more or less.”

“Ah.  So you’re denying the allegations brought against you?”

“Categorically.  Are you certain you don’t need anything to drink?”

“Why, so you can drug it?”

Now he blinks, looking shocked.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Right,” I tell him.  “Sorry.  That’s not your style.  You prefer to take advantage of emotionally vulnerable and financially insecure people.  Less money spent on drugs that way.”

His face clouds.  “Miss –”

“No,” I tell him.  “Not a woman.”

That definitely throws him.  “I – but –”

“Oh, I know I look like one right now.  But femininity is just a performance, after all.  I can pick it up and put it down whenever I want.”  I pitch my voice high and bubbly.  “All it takes is a little practice.”

Now he’s beginning to look angry.  “I think you ought to be going, now.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”  I pull the last of my interview tools out of my suit jacket.  He stops looking angry very abruptly and begins looking scared.  This is a natural reaction to being confronted with a Walther PPK.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” I continue.  “If you get up from this couch, or try to move toward me in any way, I’m going to shoot you.  Naturally police will get called, there’ll be a huge – what was that wonderful word you used – ah, yes, palaver.  There’ll be a huge palaver and it’ll ultimately be your word against mine.  After all, there are no witnesses.  You let all of your staff go when things first started going sideways and it looked like money might start to actually get tight.”  I gesture minutely with the gun.  “Didn’t you, Richard?”

He doesn’t say or do anything.

“Not that it really matters if there were people around.  Everyone you ever employed had to sign an NDA as part of their job.  An NDA that threatened them with some frankly draconian consequences both legal and financial if they ever talked about you or your activities to the press.”

Silence.

“I expect you looked me up when you heard I was going to be your interviewer,” I say.  “Here’s what I think happened.  You started thinking about this interview, about having this little femme-ish person in your home – I mean, nonbinary people are just ‘women lite,’ right? – and filling my head with nice-sounding bullshit.  Maybe you thought about how you would get a little closer to me as we talked, bit by bit, until you were able to touch me.  Maybe a hand on my shoulder, or knee, or thigh?  Just a little touch at first, but then you’d get more insistent.”

His face contorts in a rictus expression, but he still says nothing.

“Where did it go next?” I ask.  “This fantasy version of me.  Was I down?  Or did I resist?  Is it hotter when they say no, Richard?”

I see his Adam’s apple bob a little as he swallows.  He still doesn’t say anything.

“Answer the question like a good boy,” I tell him.  “Or I’ll shoot you anyway and things will go like I said.”

His eyes flick toward the phone.

“Oh, yes, it is recording,” I tell him.  “But you know how it is, Richard.  Things get deleted by mistake, or lost.  Or, oops, silly little me, I forgot to press the button!  This is why we kept women out of journalism for so long.”

“I don’t know how to answer your question,” he finally says.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t do anything you just suggested.  If my employees signed NDAs, it was my lawyers who made them do it.  I certainly didn’t engage in lurid fantasizing about you before you arrived.  And I let my staff go when this whole thing first started because I didn’t want them getting swept up in it, not because of financial concerns.”

“You didn’t want them talking to the press, you mean,” I tell him.  “NDAs or no, you were paranoid about that.  But I was able to interview one of them.”

He blinks.  “Who?”

“Now now, Richard, they spoke to me under guarantee of anonymity.  I’m an ethical journalist.  I don’t reveal my sources.”

“The gun you’re using to threaten me would cast doubt on the credibility of your ethics, I must say.”

I raise my eyebrows in mock surprise.  “A little bit of sass from the serial rapist.  You love to see it.”

“I am not –”

“What is it about anal rape specifically that you like, Richard?  The fact that it’s easier to make someone bleed from their ass, or the fact that the angle’s better when you’ve got them pinned on their stomach so you don’t have to see their face?”  When he just sits there gaping at me, I continue, “Is it both?  Neither?  Oh, I forgot about the allegations that after you anally raped some of your victims you made them clean off your cock with their mouths.  Do you just like making people eat their own shit, Richard?  I’m sorry, I mean, ‘my Lord.’  That is what you insisted people call you, whether they wanted to or not.”

He still sits there and says nothing.  He just stares at me.  He doesn’t even look angry.

“The thing I keep seeing,” I tell him, “more than anything else, is the grief.  Millions of people loved your work, Richard.  We grew up with it.  We drew comfort from it.  We loved the way you insisted on depicting the stories of the marginalized.  The unseen.  People of color, women, queer folks, trans folks, immigrants, convicts.  Victims of systemic discrimination, of assault.  We saw ourselves in those stories, some of us for the first time.  And you’re so outspoken, Richard.  You’re so quick to call yourself a feminist.  To tweet about hashtag believe women.  To go to bat when famous dickheads go on a twitter rant about men wearing a dress so they can go into women’s restrooms and do vague sex crimes.  You talked the talk so well, Richard, and for so long.  It really was easy to believe that you were walking the walk.”

His mouth is pressed into a thin line.  There are tears in his eyes.

“So, on the record, Richard.  Are you sorry for what you’ve done?”

A tear runs down his cheek.  “Yes.”  His voice is hoarse.

“Do you regret it?  If you could, would you go back and change it?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a good boy,” I tell him.  “And listen, I believe you.  I believe that right now, in this moment, you feel like an absolute piece of shit and wish you’d never been born.  Humans are extremely reference-dependent, Richard.  When we’re in a hot state, when we’re angry or horny or high or some combination of all of them, we have a very hard time thinking about anything more than what we want to do right there in that moment.  Regret happens when you look back with clear eyes and really objectively evaluate what you did.”

He nods, still weeping silently.

“So,” I continue.  “We’ve established that you regret it, Richard.  You regret all the terrible shit you did.  You are, in fact, capable of feeling regret, is my point.”  I raise my free hand palm up, fingers curled, in an inquiring gesture.  “So my next question would be, why’d you keep doing it?”

Back to silence.  He has nothing to say.

“We have sworn testimony from five or six women now, Richard.  Over a period of years.  Decades, even.  One or two data points could be coincidence, mistakes, misunderstanding.  But there’s a pattern here.  And more people are coming forward.  My point is, only you – maybe not even you, it’s been so long – know how many people you’ve sexually assaulted.  So why, at no point, did you just… stop doing it?  Why didn’t you say, I regret this and would like to change it if I could, so I’m not going to do it any more?”

The quiet from him is deafening.  The gun is heavy in my hand, but I don’t let my aim waver.

“I’ve read a lot of think pieces about this,” I say.  “A lot of very educated people holding forth on generational cycles of abuse and trauma begetting more abuse and trauma.  People are talking about how your parents were part of a very wealthy, very powerful cult.  About some of the stuff you were obviously subjected to as a kid.  That kind of stuff fucks you up, I agree.  You don’t live through trauma like that without the brain doing weird things to try to cope.”

I lean forward toward him, lowering my voice a little.  His eyes stay fixed on the gun.

“But between you and me, Richard?  I don’t care.  Your brain isn’t you.  Your traumas and triggers aren’t you.  You’re you.  At the end of the day, you’re the one who controls your actions.  You might be predisposed to them, you might even find it overwhelmingly hard not to do them, but the bottom line is that the buck stops with you and no power or force in the universe can change that.  You took advantage of people.  You violated and hurt people.  And you just kept doing it!  And the whole time you kept getting up on your little soapbox and telling everyone how good of an ally you were!”  I can hear my voice rising and getting shrill and at this point I’m beyond caring.  “Fuck, I’m surprised no one twigged to your bullshit much earlier!  It’s so obvious in retrospect!"

It is at this point, of course, that he decides to go for the gun.  It’s only natural, after all.  I’m getting closer to him, I’m agitated, I’m caught up in the moment and ranting.  There will never be a better time, and he knows it.  One hand seizes my wrist and twists, the other comes around in a solid blow to my jaw.  I see stars and feel the weapon fall from my fingers.

When I can see and think again, only a couple seconds later, he is standing, pointing the gun at me, screaming, calling me a crazy bitch, et cetera.  I massage my jaw.  “Richard, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” he says.  “That wasn’t very nice of me?  To disarm the psychotic cunt that came into my house with a gun to threaten me?  I am so very sorry I hurt you!  Is that what you wanted to hear?  That I’m sorry your little parasocial fantasy relationship with me had its bubble burst when it turned out I’m just another disappointing fuckup?”

“It doesn’t hurt to hear that, no,” I say.  “But no, honestly, what I wanted was to make you feel the way some of your victims did.  To be paralyzed with fear and impotent rage as someone made you feel like a worthless bag of shit.  Didn’t enjoy it, huh?”

“I don’t know how many times I need to explain to people that I’m sorry things went the way they did!” he shouts.  “I’m not a comic book villain, I don’t have some evil master plan that I already executed thirty minutes before you got here.  I’m just a man who has made bad decisions and wants to put them behind him!  I didn’t kill anyone, for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s true,” I say.  “You haven’t killed anyone.  Yet.”

I make as though I’m going to spring at him.  He screams and pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens, of course.  There aren’t any bullets in the gun’s clip or chamber.

He stares at the weapon in shock for a long few seconds while I just sit there and go back to rubbing my aching jaw.  That’s going to bruise for sure.

“No, it didn’t jam, it’s just not loaded,” I say, finally.  “And look on the bright side, Richard.  You only pulled the trigger once.  You didn’t keep trying after the first time.  That’s the difference between manslaughter and murder, right there.”

He drops the gun onto the floor.  I lean over and pick it up, putting it back in my jacket.  I also collect my phone, which is still recording.  I press the red button again and turn that off.

“Naturally, none of this is going to be admissible in court,” I tell him, putting away my notepad and pen and starting to straighten out my outfit, which got rumpled in the tussle.  “Confession under coercion, real or imagined, never is.  But that was never the point, after all.  I just came here to write a story.”

He stares at me with hollow eyes.  “It sounded to me like you came here for more than that.”

“Catharsis is nice, sure, but it doesn’t pay the rent, Richard.  But the waves this whole thing will make – the two weeks of discourse about whether what I did was okay, the yea-sayers and the nay-sayers fighting on twitter, the long screeds on Medium and WaPo about whether it’s morally justified to bully a bully, et cetera et cetera?  It’s all going to add up, Richard.  You can take some comfort in the idea that you really are being a good ally, finally, by helping get a queer writer’s career off the ground.”

His mouth quirks in a bitter smile.  “So much for the moral high ground.”

“I never laid any claim to that, Richard.”  I turn and head for the door.

But I can’t resist looking over my shoulder one more time.  “Oh, but just to point out – if I had, I would still have it, because I haven’t raped a bunch of people and then made them sign NDAs to keep them from talking about it.”

He doesn’t say anything.  I don’t look back at him again as I leave. 

My Uber Black is still waiting for me in the driveway.  The driver glances back at me in his rear-view mirror as I slide into the backseat.  “That was fast,” he says.  “I was expecting to be waiting out here for, like, at least an hour.”

I shrug.  “We got to the heart of the matter pretty quickly.”

He nods, putting the car in drive and starting the trip back.  “So,” he says.  “Did he do all that stuff?  Like, for real?”

“What do you think?” I ask him.

With a shrug, he replies, “Probably, yeah.  But you know how this kind of thing goes.  There’s a bunch of court stuff, a lot of people fighting on the Internet about it, and maybe he gets house arrest and a fine.  Maybe.  More likely they let him off.  He’ll be back to writing stuff next year and talking about how he got unfairly canceled and now he’s trying to just come back and do his thing but the liberal media won’t let him.”

“Yeah, probably,” I say.  I’m already drafting my statement for when my phone gets hacked and the recording gets leaked without my consent or knowledge.  I also send my girlfriend a message confirming I’m still good to crash at her place for a while so I’m not home when the crazy people show up to threaten me in person after I get doxxed.

I know he’s right, though.  Life isn’t story-shaped.  There isn’t going to be a nice, fitting end for Richard Colby.  He’s going to keep living a very comfortable life with his millions of dollars and he’ll die of old age in his sleep.

That’s what gets me, at the end of the day.  That he’s the one who made me believe that life should be story-shaped.  That, in the final account, the world should work the way it does in books and television.  Bad guy gets caught, gets punished, happily ever after.

Fuck him for that.  I’m so tired.  I can’t even be angry.

I’m just disappointed.

[myswans0ng]

the song of forgotten flames

✢ sylus x idol!mc / fem!reader

synopsis: MC is an aspiring and rising idol who got placed in the crosshairs of powerful enemies who are after her. Sylus, the leader of Onychinus now tangled in the same web, his life at your fingertips once again.

contents/warning: romance, mild angst, slow burn, fluff, idol life, descriptions of violence/mature themes, heavily suggestive, alternate universe/timeline, idol!mc, fem!reader

ch. synopsis: pt. 2 of how you and Sylus met... (part 1: here)

status: ongoing

w/c: 1.1k

also on ao3: here

index: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3

4 - The Price of a Song (Part Two)

Somewhere in the N109 Zone…

The sleek black car’s engine hummed steadily as Sylus drove. His grip on the steering wheel was firm, his expression unreadable. You sat beside him, your arms crossed tightly as if you were hugging yourself to soothe your anxious heart. Still reeling from the chaos of the auction and your life before you shifting to something darker and more sinister. The silence between you and the man who had bought you was thick and uncomfortable.

You stared out the window, unsure what you were seeing but a dim road and a fog so thick you can’t see anything else but the headlights. Could Sylus see anything out there? You wondered.

Your mind was racing, everything happened so quickly— the performance, the bidding, the trap, and now, here you were. Seated next to the man who had purchased you for 500 million. That is what your life is worth to these people. What does he want with you now? What is he planning to do with you? Were you now doomed to serve him like his personal jester? To entertain him whenever he’s bored? For him to use your Evol till your lungs give out?

Finally, unable to hold back your frustration and your deepening curiosity, you turn to face him, mustering whatever courage you had left in you. “What are you going to do to me?” You asked as you watched his profile.

He didn’t answer, his eyes focused on the road ahead. You thought he didn’t hear you but then he spoke, his voice low.

“What were you doing in the N109 zone?” He asked, his tone blank as though it was a simple question.

You blinked, taken aback by the shift in the atmosphere. What were you doing in the N109 Zone? What would be a good answer that didn’t make you sound like a naïve girl who stupidly thought this was her chance to make it big but not expecting to be caught up in all of this despite the obvious warning signs? You suddenly remember the song, the crowd and it made your skin crawl.

“I- I was doing my job,” You answered, your emotions threatening to rise again but you do

your best to hold yourself back from crying once more. “I j-just needed the money… Bills to pay, you know?”

Sylus didn’t respond right away. The silence that followed left a pressing feeling. You look at him again, staring, analyzing his features and his movements. You were trying to figure him out and his intentions, his motives but your thoughts had nothing good to say. You might as well consider yourself dead.

This made you… angry.

“Do you people ever stop and think about what you’re doing? Or are we all just expendable to you? You’re going to hell, you know!” You said bitterly. Words coming out of you like a broken faucet.

Sylus lets out an amused laugh, his gaze looking briefly to you. “What makes you think we’re not already there sweetheart?” The glint in one of his eyes shined brighter as he said those words.

Your chest tightened. The look on his face left an eerie feeling like you were being pulled into his trap and it made your blood boil. You hear your own voice.

Devour him. You heard your voice inside your head say, almost pulsating.

“Well I’m not gonna go down easy! Even if I have to kill you myself—” Your fist aiming to hit him.

Sylus snickered, his reflexes quickly grabbing your hand then gripped it harshly, pulling you face to face towards him. “Is this how you thank someone who just saved you?” His words trailed off, he leaned closer to you. His face, mere inches away from you. His eyes cutting through you. “You really haven’t changed, have you?”

Your brows furrowed, something about the way he said those words felt all too knowing. Your mind raced, your thoughts scrambling. He pushes your hand back, making you fall back into the seat. Your head begins to ache as the voice inside continues to occupy every inch of your brain. It was almost nauseating.

“What do you mean by that?” You hissed, but your voice came out weaker than you had expected.

Devour him! He's yours!

Before you could say or do anything more, the car came to a halt. The tires screeched slightly against the pavement. You blinked, confused.

Looking out the window, you see the familiar gates of your apartment building. You weren’t sure how long you were in the car, but you hadn’t expected to stop here. In fact, this was the last place you thought you'd be.

“Get out.” Sylus didn’t glance your way. He looked straight ahead, his face emotionless as ever.

“What?” You pondered.

Out of the blue, you saw a flash of red and black streaks of light pushing past you and it opened the passenger door. The blood red streak wrapped around your body and pulled you out of the car, bringing you to your feet. Sylus still in the car.

Was that his Evol?

“Never go back to the N109 zone again. Consider this your first and last warning.” He said in a firm and dismissive, yet also threatening tone.

Your mouth went dry, unsure what to say. You didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved. The voice in your head is completely vanishing. But before you could even argue, the car door closed and Sylus had quickly driven away. The sound of the car engine roaring, a small gust of wind hitting you slightly as it sped off the driveway.

You stood there out on the curb of the street you knew so well. The cold night air brushing against your skin. Your head filled with a thousand thoughts, but none of them seemed to make sense as to what just happened.

“You haven’t changed, have you?”

What did he mean by that? You wondered. It wasn’t the first cryptic thing he said tonight but it’s the one that stuck like a splinter you couldn’t pull out.

The more you tried to dissect his words, the more it just left you in the dark. Your mind spinning in circles. Then there was this other voice.

Devour him.

You couldn’t tell where that came from, or what exactly triggered that. Hearing your own voice in your head wasn’t anything new but it sounded like someone else entirely.

You enter the gates of your home but it did little to comfort you. The night had left you with a lingering feeling that someone might be out to get you again.

For now, there were no answers. But one thing’s for certain, Sylus knew more than he was letting on. Now you have a choice whether to unravel that mystery yourself or leave this behind.

a/n: the reason i didn't use his motorcycle in this scenario is 'cuz i think it would be difficult to have their conversation on it lol mc woulda' jumped off

index: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3

also on ao3: here

[angelwishess]

Random OC Tidbits !!!

Kyra has a habit of breaking things alot. She has and will continue to jump out of windows regardless of if they’re open or not, whats a few scratches matter anyway?

When she has no money but wants a snack from a vending machine… She’ll break the vending machine’s glass and take all of the snacks inside for herself then run away while giggling like a maniac.

Elena has the biggest appetite EVER. The girl can and will eat anything and everything. Has an even bigger appetite than Jade and can rival Ruggie when it comes to eating the most.

Jester has a talent for just appearing out of nowhere. Despite having bells on her outfits— shes extremely silent when she wants to be, and often appears whenever someone calls out for her. Its strange, almost like shes just always there, waiting for someone to call whenever shes not causing a scene elsewhere…

Jester LOVES music, and is Heartslabyul’s go-to whenever they’re in the mood for a song. Shes rather musically talented and can play a bunch of instruments, and she often appears whenever there are people painting the roses so they can all sing together teehee

^^ jester jamming out while everyone else is painting the roses LMFAO

Kyra is extremely prone to accidents. Like, seriously. This is more of a funny way to poke fun at the “Damsel in Distress” trope honestly, she always gets into weirdly bad situations and it can get ridiculous. She always manages to get herself out of it, though.

Its like, looney toons level stuff though😭 The girl will get hit by a car then just get up like nothing happened, or get poisoned somehow with the only cure being a ‘True Love’s Kiss’ but then she just. Wakes up. Because shes “bored of being asleep”.

Do I have any serious explanation for how durable Kyra is?? No. I just think its really really funny and I giggle when I think about it so thats really all the reason I need LMFAO the infirmary is her second home

Elena adores the moon. Its her favorite thing, and she’d often swim up to the surface late at night to just admire it. It calms her down, and in a way she feels connected to it.

Elena uses tarot cards for readings when not using her UM! She always has the best crystals, too.

Jester is SUPER expressive. She may be wearing a mask, but her mask is a magical one that copies the expressions shes making underneath— and actually kind of exaggerates them even more. Funnily enough, even with her face covered shes my most expressive OC! Her hat even droops down or shoots up depending on her emotions.

Jester is super non-confrontational and will just disappear into thin air whenever shes in a situation she doesn’t like. Literally, she’ll use her UM to make her look like she disappeared and just. Leave. 😭

Elena can also screech like. Really loud 😭. Part of her abilities as a siren is to screech so loud she can break glass WHAHAHA

Also, Elena’s siren abilities are actually rather weak. See, she was raised with the Leech family from birth, and so has no other sirens around her during her development years. So she just kind of had to figure it out by herself through books and whatnot HAHA

Elena is also trained in self defense and can ABSOLUTELY beat someone up. Shes actually SO FERAL. After keeping up a facade for so long and repressing her aggressive tendencies for the sake of keeping up her act for Azul and the Mostro Lounge— whenever she gets the chance to fight?? OH SHES SO DOWN.

Im actually so forreal when I say that shes brutal😭 absolutely zero mercy I fear, you do NAWT wanna know what happened when they took Azul in Book 6… the girl was SO pissed.

Kyra has learned how to catch fish with her bare hands. No I have no explanation for this. Sometimes when its raining hard she’ll return in the dead of night to ramshackle, soaking wet, with an armful of fish. Where did she get all this fish and why?? She won’t tell, and she doesn’t have an answer.

Kyra is. Actually kind of scary?? 😭 like she looks uncanny if you look at her for too long.

Kyra has NO self defense training nor any combat experience. Does that stop her from throwing hands whenever the situation calls for it and getting into fights??? No. The girl is too stubborn to back down and she cannot resist the adrenaline rush that comes with it

Lets be honest here Kyra would be arrested atleast like, once.

Kyra actually has perfect posture and poise! Its because of how strictly her “Princess Lessons” were burned into her very being, but the only reason she seems so elegant at first is because of those lessons.

[wander-wren]

i’ve been trying to look for critique of 17776 but it’s actually quite hard to find. not because i dislike it (i don’t think you could look at my blog and come away thinking i dislike Football Satellite Story) but because i just like to see critiques of things i like sometimes. opens up the old brain.

plus there are certainly things that i could critique in the story, i just haven’t quite figured out how to articulate them. most of them feel like quite low-hanging fruit, anyway—the whole narrative is predicated on time essentially pausing in the 2020s, plus apparently all bad things have been eradicated (war, hunger, money, i don’t know if it’s explicitly stated but i assume bigotry etc). american government still exists as it does today, at least in name—there is a president and governors. quite a lot to unpack there.

i read 17776 as a utopian story. it’s not a perfect world, but as jon bois says several times, the imperfections are necessary, deliberate, chosen. therefore….don’t they make it perfect? up for debate. it’s certainly the only utopia i’ve encountered that i respect, for the simple fact that it never turns out to be a lie or boring.

that said, there is SO much of the world of 17776 that we don’t see. we don’t see disabled folks, and we especially don’t explore what that looks like with the nanos. we don’t see people from the places that were underwater, that juice tells us survived and “continue their cultural practices elsewhere.” we don’t see anyone wrestle with the premise, that is—no more children. no making new families. no change. a flooded world. an infinite sun. the unfairness of everyone who didn’t make it to the end of the world. and of course you can say, to the last bit, that it’s been 15,000 years, people have already done all of that wrestling. you’re telling me it doesn’t still hit them?

that’s not even touching on the fact that we don’t see the rest of the world. we don’t know what happened to it, what the politics are, what land has even survived. jon bois is very insistent on glossing over all of the difficult questions.

and i’ve written before about how i admire that, for the guts alone if nothing else. why don’t people die? who knows! what about this bad thing? it’s gone. what about this problem with the world? it’s fine.

so 17776 is flawed, mostly in that it is deeply american and apparently uninterested in engaging with the less comfortable parts of its premise. for the first, i want to know what else anyone expected from a story titled “17776: What Football Will Look Like In The Future.” for the second, i maintain that changing that would require that jon bois had simply written a different story.

17776 is ultimately a positive narrative to me. i almost said hopeful, but it’s not that. there’s no hope after the end of the world, there’s no need for hope. it’s just content, despite the occasional dips. this is the part i struggle to articulate, because i so clearly understand where jon bois needed to go, and it is obvious that he was steamrolling over any pesky bits that would detract or distract or slow him down in getting there (again: guts). i respect it.

would telling those grittier narratives, turning this utopia into a dystopia, be worthwhile? certainly, to some. would it wreck the existing themes/message? very probably. would that make a better story? do the themes deserve to be wrecked because the way they were presented is flawed?

up to you.

[fallroute]

So, here's the thing. I need money to pay bills and replace a couple of cords that broke on me this month. If you're interested, I'm offering halfbody drawings at $10, and full body drawings at $13. I can also offer to make icons for $10 per every 20 I make (100x100, mostly plain, but you're mainly paying for me doing the work in this and I get burned out of making them quick, hence the high price). The icons will be of official art/manga, so if I can't find enough material, I won't make them. Sorry.

I do have a ko-fi here, which'll make it easier to pay for the things you commission from me. If you're interested, please IM me here ( @fallroute ) as my askbox is closed until February. If you can't afford it, please at least reblog this post to get it around! I appreciate it a lot!

If you need examples of my art, it's below!

[girlivealwaysbean]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

[xiii-e]

//ooc posting: I NEED to find more fun/silly things to do with my two they are Not meant to be all agony all the time I swear- I just have a penchant for the dramatic and they're a little in the torment nexus o(-< but on god they will Have Fun too

[aeolianblues]

I'm not an extrovert. At all. In everyday life, I'm a yapper, sure, but I need someone to first assure me I am okay to yap, so I don't start conversations, even when I really want to join in sometimes! It's just the social anxiety acting up. God knows where from and why I lose a lot of my inhibitions when it comes to talking to people about music. I don't know where the confidence has suddenly sprung from. I've made a crazy amount of friends in musical circles, either just talking to people about common music or (since it is after all in music circles) talking to bands about their own music. I let out a sigh of relief any time an interaction goes well, because in truth it's going against my every instinct. I wish I could do that in everyday life

[seventh-district]

.

[waywardsalt]

probably going to rework my human bellum design again

[unsurebazookacore]

my mom very awkwardly coming into my room and handing me my freshly folded laundry telling me "you should be happy in life" 30 minutes after i finished a full mental breakdown in front of her because she said she's not paying for college unless I get into a top 30 university

[shadyhouse]

.

[dickvinci]

and i know i could and possibly might just start posting about fics and what not that i'm writing her and set up a kofi and take suggestions and what not but. it's a lot of work.

[sskk-manifesto]

:)